


Manipulative

by storytellerof221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Betrayal, Depression, Drugs, M/M, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 18:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storytellerof221b/pseuds/storytellerof221b
Summary: Sherlock hates the baby, he doesn't want a baby in 221B. He just wants John and only for himself.





	1. Chapter One

Sherlock was on the sofa in his thinking-pose. His fingers were on his lips and close together. He listened to John’s quiet sobbing coming from upstairs. Sometimes he wouldn't just stop.  
The way it had ended inside the aquarium had been his plan all along. He had counted on Mary feeling guilty and had provoked Vivian Norbury, the secretary, who had been responsible for the treason, had her pretending she was Ammo. He knew she had a weapon and he made her pull the trigger. As foreseen Mary threw herself in the line of fire and saved his life. She did this because she never could shake off the feeling of being guilty, because she had shot him during the whole Magnussen business. Sherlock smirked and it put a rather mean expression on his face.  
Sherlock’s acting had been splendid. He even let John hit him rather badly in the morgue of Calverton's hospital just to comfort him. Soon enough John would be his.  
He opened his eyes and got off the sofa. He went into their cluttered kitchen and put on the kettle.  
John had returned to 221B after the incident with Eurus. The baby came with him. Sherlock didn’t mind because he had a plan already. He wanted John’s time and love. The baby was just a temporary nuisance.  
He got two mugs and placed a tea-bag into each. He filled it up, added sugar and milk as he and John liked and placed everything on the coffee-table. He had even bought cake. He smirked. John had a sweet tooth and would feel much better.  
Not only because of the cake but because of the drug Sherlock had carefully injected into it. It would make him relax and really see things like he was supposed to see them; at least from Sherlock’s point of view. Very slowly and calmly he would suggest giving Rosie away. John would sign all the papers time come.  
He smiled being convinced of his plans when John came slumping downstairs. He definitely needed a shower, Sherlock would see to it, too. Right now, he just fussed over him. He used his best low voice.  
“John, come over here and sit with me.” John obediently changed directions and fell on the leather. Sherlock placed the tea on the table in front of him. Also, the cake was placed there.  
“I thought something sweet would make you eat, John. Please?” He put on a mask of concern and John looked troubled. Slowly he reached out for the tea at first and sipped it. It was good and he closed his eyes. And then he took the plate and started to eat. And he finished the whole piece. Sherlock was pleased.  
“John?” Sherlock asked after a few minutes. Very slowly John’s head turned into his direction. His eyes only were half-open.  
“Hm?” He made a sound as if asking something.  
“I am worried about Rosie, John.” Sherlock sounded concerned.  
“Why?” John managed to ask.  
“It’s not safe here. It’s not a proper place for a baby, John, and you know it.”  
“But I can’t afford another place on my own.” He slurred.  
“I know that, John. But that also means you aren’t fit to take care of her properly. You need to work and where to keep her? It won’t be a good life for her and you, John.” Now John looked sad.  
“But what can I do?” He asked. Sherlock was very, very pleased with himself.  
“I took the freedom to do some research. You see, many people can’t have children. You need to give her away so she has the chance to live a good life.” Now there were tears in John’s eyes.  
“But I am a good father …” He started to cry again.  
“You would be under other circumstances, I do agree. But you would have to give up work and me, your blog and everything. You would be bored and depressed very soon. Your limp would return and your shoulder would hurt badly again. Do you want that? How do you care for her being disabled like that?”  
“God, you are right …” He sobbed a bit but finally blew his nose.  
“John, you do know that I will help you with everything needed, right?” Sherlock asked. John looked up.  
“Of course, I know that! Without you I couldn’t have managed anything. You saved my life for the second time and now you even save Rosie’s because I am not capable.” He sniffed and had to blow his nose again.  
Sherlock successfully suppressed his smirk. This worked better than expected. Mycroft had been sceptic about it because he thought John too smart. But Sherlock knew that John was emotionally compromised. Mycroft owed him.  
“You know, I already thought about it all because your situation didn’t let me sleep at all.” John looked up and a bit of hope was in his eyes.  
“Did you find a solution? What do I need to do?”  
“Of course, you can’t just go to social service and tell them you can’t care for Rosie. We need to use Mycroft’s connections.”  
“Would he help?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, he would. I already talked to him.”  
“So, he would find a suitable family for Rosie?” John asked and his eyes were full of tears again.  
“Yes, there will be proper papers and documents, nothing illegal whatsoever. You don’t have to worry. The only thing you need to know is that Rosie’s life will be just wonderful and she will be taken care of. He will even pay for her education and everything. You just have to let go, John.” Sherlock stroked his hair.  
“How could I deny that? I never could do that for her!” He leant against Sherlock and looked for comfort. He needed someone close. And very slowly Sherlock’s arms came around John’s broad shoulders and held him.


	2. Chapter Two

Sherlock kept John drugged for several weeks until the business regarding Rosie was complete. She had successfully been removed from Sherlock’s and John’s life and poor John was even happy about it. Mycroft had suggested adding a tiny detail to make John feel better with both giving her away and feeling less or not at all guilty. Sherlock had been angry because he hadn’t thought of it but followed his brother’s idea.  
So due to the upcoming adoption they had her checked through. One evening Sherlock came home with some documents in a folder and a sad face. He sat on the sofa by John’s side and just looked at him.  
“I think you should know that, John.” He held up the folder.  
“Know what?” John had asked.  
“About Rosie. See for yourself.” John took the folder and opened it. He was a doctor after all and could see what Sherlock had found. They had done several blood-tests and found he wasn’t the father. Well, of course it was a fake but John didn’t know that. Right then he didn’t even cry.  
“Well, it’s for the best then.” That was all he said. There was no fight left in him.

***

Sherlock had dropped the dosage week by week and very slowly and everything worked out just fine. He was absolutely pleased with his doing. John had accepted everything Mycroft had suggested. He had even shown him pictures of the family abroad, their estate, their bank-account, even their car. John had sucked everything up and then decided he didn’t have to feel guilty at all.  
None of that was real of course. Rosie just had disappeared into some dark adoption channels. Wherever she ended up, it won’t be pretty.  
It didn’t matter to Sherlock what would become of her. He had no connections to her whatsoever. His goal had been John all the time. He needed to keep him, nothing else was important.  
Over the last weeks and months, he had slowly gotten closer to John. He touched more and he ignored his personal space. But John had been needy and didn’t mind. Now he was used to Sherlock being close.  
About two weeks after Rosie had been gone Sherlock started with small kisses on John’s hair or temple. He also started guiding him around by placing his palm on his lower back and gently but insistently shoved him forward.  
John just gave in. He loved having Sherlock’s attention. He was very fond of him. He also was deprived of touch since Mary was dead. By now he didn’t even mind much that it was Sherlock who touched him, a man.  
Sherlock knew exactly what he was doing. And he had a plan for what he wanted most: John in his bed beneath him.

***  
So, one day Sherlock decided to move on with his advances. John was cooking and standing in their kitchen with his back to the flat. Sherlock quietly approached and slung his long arms around his waist. He noticed John wasn’t tensing. Then he pressed a kiss on his temple, a very shy kiss only with his lips. Now he tensed a little bit but didn’t pull away.  
“What’s that for?” He asked instead. Sherlock smiled against his face.  
“Just for you being here; being you.” He could feel John smile. He had him. And he tightened his grip.  
“Ow, Sherlock! Please don’t break your flatmate?” John said hunching his shoulders.  
“John, it’s not possible to break you and you know that.” He pecked another kiss on his nape and now used the tip of his tongue, too. He felt goose bumps coming up but he didn’t pull away. His hand holding the wooden spoon shook a bit.  
“Please let go, our food will burn.” Sherlock let go but he wasn’t very pleased. But then he saw the shades of red on John’s face. His cheeks were red and so were his ears. He was flushed. Sherlock’s eyes roamed some more and he could see his arousal tenting his denims.  
“What are you cooking?” He asked instead. John was glad he had changed the topic.  
“Just some fried potatoes with onions and ham. I will add some eggs later. OK?” Sherlock normally liked what John was cooking so he just nodded.  
“Sure. What about a wine?” John looked over his shoulder and slowly nodded.  
“Yes, why not? I don’t have to go to work tomorrow.” Sherlock turned around grinning. He had some more plans for after dinner with John.  
They sat down and Sherlock dug in. He needed the energy the good food provided. It also would make John happy. And he liked a happy John. He kept John’s glass filled and talked to him about his latest visit to the morgue. John drank and when he was just a little bit tipsy Sherlock moved them over to the sofa. He switched on some slow classic music and it made John sigh.  
“This is nice …” He slowly said smiling.  
“I am glad you are feeling better, John.” He sat down by his side and placed his large hand on his thigh. John didn’t even twitch anymore. Instead he leant into Sherlock’s side and almost buried his nose into the fabric of his jacket.  
Sherlock moved his fingers through his short hair and soon after used his fingernails to scratch over his scalp. John sighed some more and perhaps it was more than a sigh, it was almost a groan or a noise a cat would make.  
He quickly wanted to sit up again but Sherlock held him down.  
“No, don’t. You need this and you like it, just admit it. It’s nothing bad. I also like comforting you.” John blushed and wasn’t able to look at him. But he stayed put.  
“What would I do without you?” He murmured against Sherlock.  
“Perhaps be a bit better off …” Sherlock put on a worried face and right away John looked up.  
“No!” He vehemently shook his head. And then he even took his hand.  
“No, that’s not right. You know how much you have done for me. Without you, I don’t know what I would have done, Sherlock.” Sherlock took the next step.  
“But I would be lost without you, too. I don’t want you to be sad. I want you to be happy again.” Now John smiled.  
“I am happy, you know? Right now, I am happy with you, sitting here, talking to you and …” Then he shook his head.  
“And cuddling with me?” Sherlock asked making him blush again.  
“Yes, that, too. I never would have guessed. I mean you don’t seem the cuddly type.” He cleared his throat.  
“I know you are. Only not with me.” Sherlock made his voice sound a bit sad and dropped his hands, removed them from John’s body.  
“Now I am.” John said looking up and into his eyes. Sherlock tilted his head.  
“Yes, you are, aren’t you?” He roughly whispered. He closed the distance and John stared into his eyes like a hypnotised animal in front of a snake or headlight.  
Carefully Sherlock placed his lips on John’s. It was a very shy kiss at first when his full lips met John’s thin ones. John’s fingers strongly closed around his arms and it almost hurt. Sherlock let go and jumped up.  
“Forgive me, John. I thought, you and I …” He slowly shook his head. He made a step backwards staring at John.  
John stared back at him. He had his dominant left hand over his mouth and looked a bit shocked.  
“No, don’t go away now!” He stood up, too, and reached out for Sherlock.  
“It was a bit not good, wasn’t it?” Sherlock asked quietly still staring at him. John had blushed a dark red.  
“No, I mean, it was good. Very good. It was just unexpected. Please don’t go away now?” John repeated sounding almost desperate and Sherlock made a step back towards John.  
“I don’t want you to feel bad. I don’t want to scare you away with my advances.” Sherlock whispered.  
“You don’t. Your advances, they are, I feel so good …” And Sherlock approached again. He started to feel a bit impatient.  
“Come back into my arms then.” Sherlock held out his arms and John moved into his embrace. He slung his own arms around Sherlock’s narrow hips and held him tight.  
“Look at me.” Sherlock demanded. John was used to be ordered around and it didn’t strike him odd that even in a situation like this he did what Sherlock wanted.  
Their eyes met and Sherlock lowered his head while staring into John’s eyes. He started to kiss John again. Soon he used his tongue and teeth and it became all messy. John took it for passion and felt wanted.  
Sherlock was biting his way down John’s jaw and neck. He stopped at the point where neck met shoulder and started to suck his skin so a large bruise would form. John held on to his body and had his eyes closed. He didn’t stop Sherlock. He hadn’t been so aroused since forever. Not even Mary had been able to do this to him.  
He finally gave in and groaned loudly and very wanton. He started to rut against Sherlock’s thigh and got pushed off.  
“No!” John stumbled backwards and looked a bit hurt.  
“But …” Sherlock’s eyes slanted.  
“If you want to come, you will come because I want you to and not because you are rutting against me like a dog!” John closed his mouth and looked on his shoes.  
“Do you want to come, John?” Sherlock asked and John nodded.  
“Then let me hear you.” He made a step towards John again.  
“Please, Sherlock. I need to come. Please help me?” John almost sobbed it out.  
“Very well, John.” Sherlock closed the distance between them and grabbed his wrists. He pushed his legs apart and pressed his thigh against John’s groin. He threw his head back and shouted out his lust. Sherlock grinned.  
He closed his hand around John’s wrists and held them on his back. John didn’t fight at all. His eyes were blown wide. Sherlock’s free hand opened his denims and pulled out his cock.  
“Are you this hard only for me, John? You seem to be such a greedy, wanton little man. I probably need to teach you some manners.” He started to stroke him. John was leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. His body twitched and jerked but Sherlock held him in a tight grip.  
When it became too much, he brought his wrists up and made him stop.  
“Don’t, John. Just relax. I know what’s good for you.” Sherlock roughly whispered and John relaxed. And when John finally was close, Sherlock wiped off his palm on his shirt and stuffed his cock back into his trousers. John looked confused when Sherlock started to take his shirt off. He moved it over his shoulders and looked at him. He gently kissed his scar and then once pinched a nipple. John screamed and came into his pants for minutes.  
He was panting and leant on shaking arms on the back of the sofa.  
“John, you came into your pants like a fucking teenager.” Sherlock made a snorting noise and slowly shook his head. John didn’t answer him. His pupils were still very dilated.  
“Don’t you want to return the favour?” He quietly asked. John swallowed and carefully reached out. But Sherlock shook his head.  
“No, John. I’d like your lips around my cock. Don’t you?” He tilted his head and John slowly nodded.  
“Perfect! Come here!” John came up to him again and he pulled his shirt down. But he didn’t take it off. Instead he used it to secure John’s arms and hands. He fell on the sofa and moved him between his spread legs.  
“Down.” He pointed towards the hardwood and John swallowed. It took him a few seconds and a raised brow to do what Sherlock wanted. But finally, he knelt between his still clad legs and watched his large hands opening his fly. He pulled out his prick and once stroked it.  
“Don’t you worry, John. I will tell you what to do. You are used to listen to orders given to you, aren’t you?” John slowly nodded. But he was still very aroused and felt like he never felt before. That’s why he played along. It was all a game Sherlock was playing and as long as it gave him these results, he would happily play with him.  
“Come closer.” John shuffled closer and Sherlock’s large hand came around his neck and forced him down until he almost touched his prick. He could smell him though. Sweat, musk, soap and tobacco. John inhaled and it made his brain swirl. He quietly moaned and wasn’t able to suppress it. Sherlock quietly laughed.  
“Open up, John. Take my cock into your greedy mouth. Suck me!” Sherlock didn’t push into him. He wanted him to do it all by himself. And John eyed his prick and swallowed.  
The moment he made his decision was clear to Sherlock. A determined expression settled on his features and he lowered his head. Hot, wet heat engulfed the head of Sherlock’s cock and he heavily exhaled. He could feel John’s tongue probing all over, beneath the glands and into the slit. It felt much better than Sherlock had imagined.  
“Very good, John. Fantastic! Wonderful! Go on!” John looked at him and swallowed. He shuffled closer again and Sherlock still held his neck. John moved his head further down until Sherlock touched his throat. He managed to suppress his gag-reflex but tears fell from his eyes.  
Sherlock became even harder when seeing it.  
“Yessss …” He hissed fisting into John’s fine hair.  
“You are doing perfectly fine, John. Go on, don’t hesitate, it’s great.” He praised him and soon he felt his sucking motions, his tongue darting around. John wanted to please him. He still felt so very thankful. He thought he needed to pay him back. And yes, so he would.  
When Sherlock was close, he held John by his nape and whispered:  
“I am going to come now. I will come down your throat and you will swallow it all.” John opened his eyes again and they were blown with arousal and pleasure. Sherlock also saw determination and devotion. All of this combined brought him over the edge and he came forcefully.  
John managed to swallow everything and let go of Sherlock with a wet noise. Saliva was drying on his chin and he looked very much debauched. But he also looked proud and happy.  
Somewhat expectantly he looked up at Sherlock. And Sherlock knew he needed the praise.  
“This was fucking exceptional for a newbie, John. You were amazing.” He palmed the side of his face and kissed his forehead. John sighed and closed his eyes leaning against him.  
“Thank you …” His voice was rough and he tried to get up. But Sherlock stopped him.  
“No, I am not done with you.” John looked surprised.  
“But I need a wash …” John sounded like he was asking for a wash and questioning Sherlock’s decision.  
“I just said not yet, John. I need to show you stuff. In my bedroom.” And he stood up.  
“What?” John still knelt on the hardwood and turned his head to be able to look into his face. Sherlock fisted into his shirt and pulled him up. John stumbled. His knees hurt like fuck and he still wasn’t able to free his arms.  
“Come along, John.” He placed his arm around his shoulder and led him into his bedroom. The curtains were closed and the room was almost dark.  
John wondered how he had gotten here. He also wondered if he wanted to proceed. He had to admit that Sherlock had become a bit scary, the whole scenario in here was. He swallowed.  
John turned and made a step away from Sherlock who had just hung his jacket over his armchair. Their eyes met and Sherlock’s eyes glistened in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. John’s throat was dry and he still tasted Sherlock.  
“John?” Sherlock asked and sauntered closer towards him. John moved back until he hit the door. The closed door.  
“Sherlock, I …” Sherlock lifted his arms and caged him in. John felt his body-heat and the hair on his body stood up.  
“What is it, John?” Sherlock roughly whispered.  
“Please step away from me.” John suddenly said and Sherlock knew he had exaggerated.  
“Bloody hell!” He swore inside his head but he made the step backwards. He couldn’t afford to lose John now.  
“John, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please, you have to believe me!” He opened his eyes wide and started to shed tears. John finally managed to get rid of his shirt. It was torn then but he didn’t mind. It fell on the rug by Sherlock’s bedroom-door.  
“You didn’t hurt me, Sherlock. It’s just too much right now. Do you understand?” Sherlock sat down on his bed and looked at his hands.  
“No, I really don’t. I thought … Well, I suppose I just did it wrong. Again. Please leave my room now, John.”  
“But …” John tried to talk about it but was interrupted again.  
“Please!” John swallowed. God, Sherlock wouldn’t even look at him anymore. He sighed and his head hung low when he opened the door and left. He quietly closed the door behind him and walked upstairs to take a shower. He was glad he had built the second bathroom.  
Downstairs Sherlock was on his back on top of the sheets and created a new plan for taking John.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's plan backfired.

Several days had passed since then. John only referred to it as that day. He almost tiptoed around Sherlock as if not to spook him. He really wondered what had happened. Was it because he had stopped him? Was he too boring for the likes of his posh and deviant flatmate?  
John had liked what they did. A lot. But he also had wishes and he didn’t want to be pushed around in a dark-room with his arms restrained.  
Perhaps he was too vanilla? Should he be more daring? What would he do to please Sherlock? To get him back? He pondered about it for hours. He baked bread, a cake and tons of cookies and muffins. It was some sort of meditation for him. He didn’t even notice Sherlock hanging around and stealing some.  
He finally decided to confront Sherlock and ask what he wanted, how he wanted it and if he still wanted it.

***  
Sherlock knew that John was hooked. He also knew what John thought, he always knew. John was like an open book to him. Sometimes he wondered about himself why he was so interested in John, so addicted to this doctor and ex-soldier. He could have just thrown him out and find someone else to get what he wanted.  
But he only wanted John.  
He sighed and tried to analyse it again and deeper. But nothing else came out. It was John he wanted. Completely. He wanted him. He was supposed to be his alone.  
“Mine!” He growled and tore a sheet apart.

***

John took more shifts than before. He needed some alone time, time away from Sherlock to be able to think properly. He couldn’t think with him around.  
Sherlock used the time to see Mycroft. He needed his help and he hated it. He wasn’t even sure if Mycroft would understand what he wanted. He knew that his brother had achieved his goal. He had Greg. Greg still worked somehow for Scotland Yard but he also was Mycroft’s pet, his footstool and his fuck-toy. Sometimes he was everything of the above. He needed to know how he had done it or he would lose John.  
He sent a text and was invited to the Diogenes. Greg was still at work and they had the office for themselves. Sherlock fell into an armchair and Mycroft even poured him a drink.  
“So, John.” He said no more and Sherlock hated it. But then he talked and tried to explain.  
“So, I need to know how to do it. I need him, Mycroft. How did you know what to do? How did you lure him in?” Mycroft snickered.  
“Well, it was a trade.” He finally said sipping his drink.  
“A trade?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, I traded a secret against knowledge.”  
“With whom?” Mycroft tilted his head grinning wickedly.  
“No!” Sherlock yelled. Mycroft shrugged.  
“But yes. Moriarty knew a lot. He knew things you didn’t.” Sherlock pouted and looked very sour.  
“But Moriarty is dead. So, what can I do?” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“Would you like my advice?” Sherlock muttered something nasty but finally nodded.  
“God, yes! I wouldn’t be here if I don’t, would I?” Mycroft snickered.  
“He is a fighter, a soldier. Give him something to fight, make it into a game. Make sure to get hurt a bit in the process. Make him feel guilty and then explain what you wanted.” Sherlock’s brain worked it over.  
“I see …” Sherlock quietly said sipping his drink.  
“Of course, you do.” The brothers looked at each other and grinned.  
“Does Lestrade really like your silly little games?” Sherlock asked out of the blue.  
“Well, he orgasms every single time I let him. So far, I believe he likes it. He never complains though. Of course, sometimes he just isn’t capable of complaining.” Mycroft laughed.  
“Did he ever try to end this?” Mycroft shrugged.  
“Yes, he did. I accepted his decision, of course. But I became very, very sad, almost sick, you see? Depressed. I cried.”  
“You cried?” Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, I did. He was very concerned for me. You see, he loves me. And I do love him, you know what I mean.”  
“Yes, I do. How far did you go with him?”  
“He is always collared by now. During his working-hours he wears bracelets, of course. But at home he has his leather-collar. He kneels by my side. Sometimes I hand-feed him. He is used to bondage now and has learned to like it. When he returns to being cheeky, I will use the cane or riding-crop. He will beg for it and count the blows and want more.” Sherlock was bloody impressed.  
“And you fuck him, of course.” He asked.  
“I sure do. Sometimes I use implements, sometimes I just take him, force it deep down his throat.”  
“Yes, please stop now, brother-mine.” Both men laughed.  
“Would you like to watch, brother-dearest?” Mycroft politely offered. Sherlock looked at him for a moment.  
“No, but thanks. I mean, actually yes, but not with Greg knowing.” Mycroft hummed.  
“I see. It shouldn’t be a problem though.”  
“Perhaps I could bring John and show him how much Greg enjoys this. You could do a session not too deviant.”  
“I should be able to do so. Set up a date. I won’t tell Greg about it.” They both topped their tumblers again.

***

On his way home Sherlock stopped at their local Tesco and bought some nosh and beer for John. He knew he was working today and expected him home at about six. He got back to Baker Street at about half past five and John wasn’t home yet. He stored the beer in the fridge and ordered take-away at their favourite Chinese place. Then he set up the table very nicely. He found a candle and some artificial flowers Mrs Hudson had once given them. He filled the nosh into a bowl and placed it on the coffee-table. Then he waited and played his violin.  
John came home with a smile on his face. He had heard Sherlock playing from downstairs and his mood became much better. He entered their flat and shed his jacket. He toed off his shoes and quietly passed by Sherlock who smiled at him.  
He opened the fridge for a snack and found the beer. He was surprised and happily grabbed one. Then he saw the table and looked over at Sherlock who had stopped playing.  
“What’s the occasion?” John asked. Sherlock placed his violin back into the case and came over to him.  
“You are, John.” Sherlock looked serious.  
“I am?” John asked surprised.  
“Yes, I want to say sorry because of what I have done. And I don’t know how. I thought this a good idea.” He looked at John and shuffled his feet. John felt stupidly happy and broadly smiled. Then he hugged his flatmate.  
“It’s all fine, Sherlock. We are good.” Sherlock gently hugged him back. He could do gentle if needed.  
“I am glad to hear that.” Then the doorbell rang and their food was delivered. John took over and filled the bowls Sherlock had already placed on the table. John enjoyed dinner very much.  
“Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” Sherlock suddenly asked. John was surprised.  
“Sure. What movie?” He asked and wondered if he had just agreed to some French arthouse thing.  
“I downloaded the latest Bond.” John smiled.  
“Oh, I haven’t watched it yet!” Sherlock smiled back at him but thought something else.  
“Of course, I know that, you stupid bitch!” But he smiled and hoped his plan would work.  
They moved over to the sofa and Sherlock switched it on. They sat and drank and nibbled the nosh. John was completely relaxed and enjoyed the film. Sherlock was watching John and moved closer inch by inch. When he had almost reached John’s thigh he stopped.  
“John?” He whispered. John turned his head to look at Sherlock.  
“Yes?” His eyes were open wide and he realised how close Sherlock was.  
“I need to know if we are really good again.” Sherlock didn’t look into his eyes but focused on his neck. At once John reached out and placed his palm on his arm.  
“Of course, we are good again. I promise that we are. I told you already. I panicked. It was stupid. I am good now.”  
“I am glad to hear that.” Now he looked up again and swallowed.  
“May I hold you again?” John considered the question and had to admit that he missed him. So, he nodded.  
“Yes, come over here.” Sherlock smiled and pulled John against his chest. It was comfortable and he didn’t cage him in. It took John only two minutes until he fully relaxed against Sherlock’s body.  
He felt his breath ghosting over his neck and while watching Bond chasing some weirdos, he felt his fingers moving over his skin. And it was glorious.  
When Bond was fighting the evil opponent, Sherlock took the opportunity.  
“I bet I could do that.” John tried to look at him over his shoulder.  
“You do martial arts? I mean I know I could. But you?” Sherlock looked almost hurt.  
“Would you like to try me?” He grinned quite superiorly and John became curious.  
“You want to fight with me? What do I get if I win?” Sherlock moved his palm over John’s stomach.  
“What do I get when I win?” Sherlock replied and now John grinned, too. He turned around and rested his head on his arms on top of Sherlock.  
“If you win you may kiss and touch me like you want.” Sherlock hummed approvingly.  
“And if you win you may do the same.” John broadly smiled.  
“Perfect. What are the conditions?” John asked.  
“We are doing it in here. We are not going to destroy our flat while fighting. The moment one of us hits the ground on his back he has lost. But he has to admit it.” What Sherlock wanted was submission, that much was obvious; only it wasn’t to John.  
“And if no one gets down we just keep going, I assume?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Exactly.”  
“OK.” John agreed.  
“Tomorrow?” Sherlock asked.  
“Tomorrow it is.” John replied and settled back against Sherlock who slung his arms around him.

***

The next day found them in a clear space in the middle of their flat. John only wore an old pair of combat-pants. Sherlock was aroused already. He only wore well-worn pyjamas. John was aroused, too.  
They circled around each other while Sherlock talked.  
“Do you have the slightest idea what I will do to you after I have won?” His voice was low.  
“Tell me all about it!” John grinned. Sherlock slanted his eyes.  
“What will you do?” He asked.  
“I will sit on top of you. I will hold your wrists over your head with one hand and the other will tease your nipples and chest and stomach.” John’s voice was rough now and Sherlock could just stare at him. John grinned and said:  
“What? Tell me now about your plan!” He jumped a step forward and Sherlock made a step back.  
“After I have jumped you, I will place your body chest down, hold your wrists crossed on your lower back with my knee and then rip off your trousers. Then I will spank you for all the provoking you are doing right now.” He grinned and so did John.  
“Yeah, you wish, Sherlock.” John teased.  
“Yes, I do.” Sherlock said and they moved around each other for several more minutes.  
And suddenly John attacked. Sherlock was surprised and he couldn’t stop John when he was brought down. He held on to him and John fell on top. Quickly Sherlock unfolded his long legs, got them up and crossed them over John’s body. With a violent move he turned them so he was on top. It merely took him two seconds and it didn’t count for him as being brought down on his back. And of course, he would never submit. Not to John and not to anyone.  
John slung his arms around him and pressed him to his body. With sheer force he pushed them around and was back on top. He kept holding on. Sherlock really couldn’t believe this. What the fuck was happening?  
“Are you giving up?” He asked panting.  
“Never!” Sherlock replied bucking up but John didn’t let go. Then he tried to bite him.  
“Wow, that’s chick fighting, Sherlock!” John cried and quickly moved him on his front. He held one wrist on his lower back and brought it to the middle of it. His free hand fisted into his hair and pulled his head up.  
“I can’t hear you!” John hissed into his ear. Sherlock groaned and twisted his body but to no avail. John had him. He was completely humiliated and felt horrible. Tears threatened to come up and he quickly thought how he could ever hurt himself now. It was either way hitting his head on the hardwood or provoking John on doing something really very stupid. And he chose the first.  
He started bitching some more and violently jerked and moved his body around not minding about his arm, wrist or head and hair. He also yelled and screamed like a maniac.  
John was bloody surprised but kept holding him down. Suddenly Sherlock started to hit his head hard on the floor. Since John held his hair rather tight, he suddenly only held some strands of his silky hair between his fingers. He stared down and shook his hand making the hair float through the air. Sherlock was behaving like a maniac.  
“Fuck, Sherlock! Stop that!” But he kept on going. John pulled him up and forcefully manhandled him into the bathroom and right into the shower-stall. He let the cold water pour down over both of them until Sherlock started to sob leaning against the tiles.  
“Jesus, what got into you?” John was beyond angry and stared up at him. That was when he saw blood running down his temple and over his ear.  
He carefully reached out but Sherlock just angrily turned his head away. Now John finally had enough.  
“Stop bitching around! Hold still!” He shoved him against the wall and held him in place. Then he examined the wound. He really had ripped some hair out with the roots. John swallowed. He was beyond angry. Why had he behaved like a rabid dog? Only because he was losing?  
Sherlock was totally tense and didn’t move at all. He wouldn’t even look at John. But he let him clean his head and dry his hair and head afterwards.  
“Go and change. Then you may try and explain why you behaved like an utter moron.” He shoved him out of the bath and had a wash with very cold water to come down.  
Sherlock left the bath. His mind was blissfully blank by now. His head hurt. He didn’t want to talk to John. He climbed all naked into his bed and pulled up his duvet. He moved on his side facing the wall and closed his eyes. He could still hear John rummaging inside the bath. Then he walked upstairs to get dressed and moved back into the kitchen. He switched the kettle on and Sherlock suddenly wanted tea, too. But he didn’t get up.

***

John was still angry. He got dressed and prepared tea. Normally he would have knocked at Sherlock’s door but not now. He was not the one who had behaved like an idiot. He was supposed to come out and explain himself.  
John knew he was sulking inside his bed covered by everything he had in there. He stared holes into the door but didn’t go and look after him. He had taken care of him and now it was Sherlock’s turn to reach out. Angrily John stirred the milk and sugar into his tea and sat in his armchair. He would wait him out.  
He finally lured him out by cooking dinner. He made pasta with a creamy cheese-sauce. Sherlock loved it and he could hear him rummage in his dresser. When he slumped out of his room, he wore another pair of pyjamas and an old t-shirt. He had no socks on and his hair was a mess.  
John looked a bit closer and saw his red eyes so he must have been worrying. Or had he been crying? John never had seen him crying. Well, only lately but that was due to anger and aggression. Those weren't real tears.  
Sherlock watched him for a few minutes but John didn’t say anything. Sherlock sighed and sat down on his kitchen-chair. John filled a bowl for him and placed it not too gently in front of him on the table.  
“Thank you.” It was very quiet but John curtly nodded. He sat down with his bowl at the table, too. They silently ate and Sherlock didn’t look at John. But he ate everything and then eyed the pot. When John made no move to get up and refill his bowl he stood and for once did it himself. He ate his second helping and finally looked at bit better.  
John took care of their things and placed everything in the dishwasher. Sherlock stood in the middle of the living-room as if waiting where John would go to. John still didn’t talk to him but poured two drinks into tumblers. He pressed one into Sherlock’s hand and made him sit on the sofa. He sat by his side.  
“What the fuck got into you?” He demanded to know in a voice Sherlock had never heard before. He swallowed.  
“I don’t know …” Sherlock quietly said.  
“You don’t know what got into you or you don’t know how to explain it to me?” John asked insistently.  
“Both. I don’t really understand what happened. My mind got all blurry and I wasn’t able to see. I felt like being throttled. I wasn’t able to breath or at least I thought so. I think I panicked.” Sherlock didn’t look at John.  
“You weren’t actually afraid of me?” John wondered.  
“I was. No one ever did something like that to me. I never let it happen. I am on top, I always was. It can’t be any other way.”  
“I see why …” John murmured and wondered if there was a reason for such kind of behaviour.  
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I had a plan …” Then he bit his lips. John tried to catch his eyes.  
“What? You had a plan? What plan?” He asked. Sherlock downed his drink and shook his head.  
“I can’t tell you.” Sherlock said. John reached out for his hand and placed his fingers around his wrist. He felt him tense but he didn’t let go.  
“Sherlock, please. We need to talk about what happened. I can’t just let it go. You need to explain!”  
“No, I can’t. I can’t explain this to you because if I do you will go away. You will hate me, probably hit me.” John moved his thumb over his pulse and gently pressed his wrist.  
“You know I won’t ever hit you or hate you. I couldn’t have such feelings for you. It’s just not possible.” Only then Sherlock looked up.  
“I need another drink.” John took their tumblers and topped them up.  
“Well?” Expectantly he looked at his friend. And then Sherlock told him about his sex-life, his meeting with Mycroft, his feelings for him, just everything. Except for the things he had done to his daughter. He mustn't ever know about it.  
John never interrupted him.  
After Sherlock was done his throat was dry and his voice was a bit rough. Only then he dared looking up.  
“John, I have never felt for someone like what I feel for you. I didn’t know how to do it better. I wanted you the only way I know. I had no one else but my brother to talk to.”  
“How did you get so violent in your sex-acts? What happened to you?” Sherlock swallowed.  
“I can’t really remember but I sure know there was some incident. Mycroft never talked to me about it and I only dream sometimes about something really nasty and violent.”  
“So, when you started having sex you felt the need to act always on top? You always wanted to hurt and humiliate people?” Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, just like that. Plus, Mycroft never talked about anything else. It's how he does it, too, and it just seemed to be natural to do the same.” His voice almost broke. John slowly shook his head.  
“What about cuddling and kissing?” Sherlock just looked at him. Then he shrugged.  
“No one ever cuddled me.” He said.  
“You should have asked, you know? Because I really like you. And I still do. I am very attracted to you. But I would never ever have something like that in bed happen to me, you see? That’s not my style.”  
“I don’t know any other way.” John seriously looked at him.  
“I see you didn’t like me on top or holding you down or too tight. But I could hold and cuddle you, kiss you gently. You don’t have to hurt me, you see?” Sherlock pressed his palms on his eyes.  
“I don’t want to be alone again! I couldn’t stand it! I messed it up!” He almost spit it out.  
“No, you did not. You did not because I am not leaving, Sherlock. We are attracted to each other. I don’t want to leave you. I have just found you.” Sherlock carefully looked at him.  
“But I …” He swallowed.  
“You pretended to like me, you pretended to be gentle but you wanted something else. If you would have had me in your bed, I really don’t want to imagine what would have happened. By the way, I also know that you drugged me.” Sherlock paled dramatically.  
“You knew?” Sherlock whispered and John nodded.  
“Yes, I only went along because I agreed to everything. Also, I took the opportunity to let you handle everything.”  
“You do surprise me …” Sherlock was almost speechless.  
“And this will be the end of it. I never want to hear or even talk about it ever again. Are we clear?” John asked and Sherlock just nodded. John continued.  
“I also liked the way you were after me. I enjoyed it.” He grinned and shrugged.  
“You are saying you would like to be with me but you don’t want me on top?” Sherlock asked.  
“I am not saying I don’t want you on top. I am saying I don’t want to be tied up while you are shagging me.” Sherlock almost choked on his saliva.  
They kept looking at each other for minutes after that. John had said everything so far; he had wanted to say.  
Sherlock kept thinking about what to do now. Finally, he dared.  
“I will try, you know? Because I want you to stay, I am going to try. I want to be with you and I trust you to be careful with me.” John seriously looked into his eyes.  
“I never want to hurt you again like I did just now. I ripped off your hair and made you bleed. I was so shocked.”  
“I can’t even remember any pain. The last things I do remember are me wailing and fighting you as well as standing under the cold water with you. But I didn’t know why, not really.”  
“We will sort it out eventually. Just be assured that I won’t leave you.”  
“I’d be lost without you.”


End file.
